


Your Gentle Touch Makes My Skin Crawl

by Renai_chan



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bondage, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Non-consensual Exhibitionism, Psychological Torture, Rimming, Subdrop, Tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-19
Updated: 2015-05-30
Packaged: 2018-03-31 06:34:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3968065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Renai_chan/pseuds/Renai_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the Avengers foil the Winter Soldier's mission, he exacts revenge in the least likely way possible: </p><p>He gives Tony the best damn sex of his life against his will, and he forces Steve to watch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I swear. 
> 
> This fic. 
> 
> Ugh. 
> 
> I love it, but ugh. I think it killed me. I am dead and my ghost is writing this note. 
> 
> Based off of [this Avengerkink prompt](http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/19023.html?thread=43653199#t43653199).
> 
> Unbeta'd as of yet because I am a horrible, impatient person, and this fic ruined me. I needed to unload before it consumed me. But I will revise soon. Feel free to point out any errors ^^
> 
> Second chapter will deal with the aftermath. Let me try to scrounge up some H/C skills XD

Tony blinked in the bright light, dazed and confused because this was not where he remembered going to sleep.

Come to think of it, he hadn't remembered going to sleep at all and _definitely_ not naked with an iron collar wrapped around his neck, and though normally he wouldn't object to a little bit of kink in the bedroom, without context, it was particularly concerning.

He shot up from the ridiculously soft pillows to inspect the collar and the length of chain that connected it to the headboard of the king-sized bed (he'd freak out about his naked predicament later on).

The chain gave him some room to move about, but only just enough to touch his feet to the floor beside the bed if he stretched out enough. It was solid metal and heavy, as was the collar whose clasp was held together by a thick padlock, something Tony could probably pick if he could find a good lockpick substitute.

He scanned the room. There was a desk in the corner, some books on it, a nightstand just out of his reach, a generic painting opposite the bed, a very large mirror on the wall to his left beside the door, and a dresser. White, sheer drapes fluttered in the wind, and beyond them, an old world town--Eastern Europe probably if the architecture outside and the whole shabby chic vibe of the room were anything to go by.

He checked the bed for possible lockpick alternatives, but wasn't surprised to come up short. Nowadays, it took a certain brand of man to be able to pluck Tony from under his teammates' noses--careless was not a trait that kind of man would possess.

His nakedness had possibly been strategic, come to think of it (and wasn't that a huge breath of fresh air) because even without his team's help, Tony was _not_ a sitting duck. If he had even just his underwear on him, he could have secreted out the JARVIS-connected panic button he'd installed there.

As it was, he was buck naked, chained up, and nearly out of options.

How _was_ he taken? He couldn't remember.

He remembered that he and Steve had been out on a post-save-the-day date; a tradition they had since Tony nearly offed himself that one time... or maybe the one before that, but definitely not the one before _that_. Point was, they were headed towards Ristretto, and then... Nothing.

Drugs. It had to be. 

Roofies, maybe. Fucking roofies. Tony had survived his wild college days without succumbing once to those, and thirty years later, when he should have _known better_... 

Fucking roofies.

He checked the room again for possible signs that Steve was kidnapped too because if he'd been drugged, Steve certainly would have been too. There was no way Tony would have been taken if Steve hadn't been incapacitated.

Then again, it would be easier if Steve had been left where he lie. He'd have burned through the drugs in a few minutes flat--not enough time to secure a supersoldier, but just enough to swipe Tony from under his nose.

He sighed and flopped back onto the bed. Nothing he could really do now but wait.

And wait he did.

It took maybe just under two hours more for anything to happen. By then, the morning sun had risen to full height and the draperies were no longer fluttering wildly. It was still cool enough, thankfully, but Tony couldn't exactly claim comfort.

The door opened, and Tony snapped up. He drew the blankets around him in an effort to preserve modesty he did not have. 

And then his jaw dropped when Bucky fucking Barnes strolled in.

No, not the Winter Soldier, he'd seen the photos of both--this was _Bucky Barnes_. Sure, he still had that metal arm (and dear God did Tony want to inspect that up close), but his long hair was pulled into a low, messy bun, and his face devoid of his trademark make-up. He was barechested, and black sweatpants rode low on his hips, revealing those delicious, delicious Adonis lines and tight six pack.

He carried a tray which Tony found to be laden with food.

Tony tensed when Bucky sat on the edge of the bed, but he only set the tray down and pushed it over.

"You must be hungry," he said, and his voice was gravelly and low. Seductive without meaning to be. Tony's gut tightened because he was only human after all.

"You gonna drug me again?" he asked instead, eyeing the food warily. Bucky chuckled.

"I've got much better methods than that." But he didn't explain.

Tony's eyes narrowed. "Where's Steve?"

Bucky held his gaze for a long moment, eyes calculating and sharp. 

Then he smiled, wide and sunny like in that one picture where the Howling Commandos had just come off of a successful run. He stood and walked to the mirror, gliding a hand over its surface. An LED interface lit up and _there_ was Steve.

Tony darted forward, forgetting the collar, but it reminded him soon enough, choking him before he could get halfway off the bed. Bucky took the food tray away, but Tony barely noticed that because Steve was in front of him, well out of his reach, but _there_.

Steve was held in a cage, as far as Tony could tell, but no cage could hold Steve if he didn't want it to, so it couldn't be just a cage. He prowled in it like an antsy panther, back and forth, back and forth. He, too, was naked, which only furthered Tony’s deduction (hope) that it had been a strategic tactic.

Then Steve's gaze flickered straight into the screen.

"Can he see us?" Tony asked, swallowing down his need to reach out.

"Tony!" Steve cried out before Bucky could answer, his voice distant through the TV's speakers. He threw himself against the bars, struggling--likely again--to pry the bars apart or barrel them down.

They didn't budge.

"What do you want?!" he screamed when all his struggles failed to make a difference. "Why the fuck are you doing this, Bucky?!" So he and Bucky had already spoken then.

"Steve," Tony called out, reassuring him that he would handle this "Steve, stop. I'll--"

And then Bucky was kissing him. Deep and thorough.

Tony was frozen in shock, and the world silenced around him. The implication of the action was not lost on him, heavy and sudden in his mind and cloying, before instinct took over and he pushed as hard as he could at Bucky's chest, to no avail. He was a supersoldier, he was a trained Hydra assassin. Bucky only had to grasp Tony's jaw to keep him in place.

Distantly, he heard Steve was screaming "Stop!" and "Please!" in varying permutations over and over, but Bucky held him tight and kissed him as a lover would, slow and deep, tasting his lips, gentle even when Tony wouldn't open to him. And only when he wanted to did he release Tony.

He moved back only far enough for Tony to stare at him clearly, to see on his face the same gentle passion in which he kissed Tony.

"What--" Tony tried, but rephrased because he could guess with certainty what Bucky was going to do. "Why?" he asked instead. Bucky leaned forward and nuzzled his ear, pressing small kisses beneath it.

"Because you made me fail my mission," he whispered, his breath hot on Tony's skin. "And you need to pay for that."

"Bucky. Bucky, please. We didn't--We. I can help you. You don't have to--Not. This." Tony convinced himself that he wasn't begging. He held perfectly still, afraid to startle Bucky and of what could happen if he did. Steve's cries and pleading were background noise to the ghosting of Bucky's lips on his jaw.

"I'll make this easy for you," Bucky murmured, voice quiet enough that Steve wouldn’t possibly hear and especially not through the TV. His hand stroked the line of Tony's throat. "You're going to play along with me. If you do, I will release you and Steve afterwards, and that will be the end of it. Until we cross paths again." Tony swallowed, and his eyes flickered to Steve who stood at the cage's edge, gripping the bars with both hands.

"And if I don't?" he asked, his eyes sliding shut. His voice trembled, decision heavy on his mind. Bucky kissed his cheek.

"I'll rape you." It was said so simply, so emotionlessly that horror filled every cell of Tony's body. "Again and again and again until you're so broken and bruised and bleeding that the Captain wouldn't want you to touch a single hair on your head, but that wouldn't matter because afterwards, when I've taken every ounce of your will to live, I'll drop you on Fury's doorstep and I'll kill the Captain right after," he promised in a whisper.

Tony's breath dragged at his throat, the blood draining from his extremities. He chanced another look at Steve who stared straight at him through the TV screen, looking absolutely _ruined_.

He shut his eyes to the sight, but said nothing, and when Bucky kissed him again, he lifted his hand to place on Bucky's shoulder.

Bucky didn't acknowledge it, didn't gloat or even smile, only took it as his inevitable acceptance. It made it easier, and it made it harder for Tony to keep down the bile steadily rising from his stomach and to kiss Bucky back.

Steve's cry of "Tony!" pierced his hearing, and Tony's eyes burned beneath his eyelids, but it was easy enough to ignore when Bucky moved.

The assassin tilted his head back, back, back as he shifted to kneel over him. He cupped the back of Tony's neck with one hand, and with the other, caressed his cheek, shoulder, neck. 

It was easy to pretend that he wanted this when Bucky kissed him so sweetly.

His hands moved to hold on to Bucky's waist, and Bucky's travelling hand found his chest. He gasped loudly and arched forward when the assassin pinched a nipple. Bucky took that chance to slip his tongue into his mouth and stroke at every crevice he could find while his hand continued to play with the hardening nub. Tony's tongue met his, stroked at his through a moan which Bucky matched with fervor.

He refused to glance in the way of the TV, knowing Steve was watching every second of this. He refused to confirm the image of Steve's brokenhearted face his imagination supplied him with.

They had been going great, eight months strong and the best relationship Tony had ever had. Sure, Tony had been an asshole and negligent in certain instances, sure, Steve had lacked the confidence to give Tony the firm hand he needed, sure, they fought, intense and burning, but to Tony, it had been perfect in spite of those. And now...

"Gonna be so good to you, Tony," Bucky murmured, loudly enough, Tony assumed, for Steve's enhanced hearing to pick it up through the speakers, but still soft enough to convey tenderness.

Tony couldn't answer, so instead gave a wordless moan that he hoped sounded like approval. Steve's begging "Tony" didn't go unheard, but Tony refused to acknowledge it, lest he break character and incur Bucky's wrath. He was playing a role now, and if there was anything he was good at, it was pasting on a smile and faking it until even he believed it.

Bucky smiled against his mouth and pinched his nipple again to earn another gasp. "Gonna make you feel so good, baby." Bucky's hand travelled lower, dipping into his navel, teasing and promising for what was yet to come. His voice was deeper now, darker, intentionally seductive this time. "I know exactly what you need," he said against his mouth, still kissing and tasting even as he spoke. "You need to let go."

_Oh._

Tony's body went soft.

Bucky continued, "You need someone take care of you, take you apart and put you back together, see to your needs before their own." Words poured into Tony's mouth like honey, and his head felt swimmy.

He was dropping, hard and fast, and this was wrong, wrong, _wrong_. A few simple words shouldn't be able to do that. He shouldn't. He shouldn't, not when Steve was _right there_. Bucky was wrong. He didn't need this. Bucky was wrong, and _this was not REAL_.

"Shhhh," Bucky murmured, and that was when Tony realized he was whimpering soft protest. He immediately stopped and assessed whether Bucky took that as bad form. The assassin only dipped his head to run his lips down the column of Tony's neck, around the collar, and dip his tongue beneath it, so Tony held still, perfectly compliant with his head tipped all the way back, but fine tremors ran beneath his skin.

"Let me, sweetheart," Bucy said, ducking his head down further to nibble on one of Tony's nipples. His whole body jerked towards Bucky's mouth and a moan escaped his mouth--he couldn't stop it. The burning behind his eyelids returned and transformed to wetness with each of Bucky's ministrations, and the last of Tony's resolve was dedicated to holding those tears back.

"How long has it been, Tony?" Bucky asked, gently guiding Tony to lie back as he teased at the other nipple. When Tony had settled, he bit at it sharply, making Tony gasp and arch off the bed. Bucky hummed his approval, so Tony held that position. "How long?" he repeated when Tony's words were lost.

"Not--" And god, his words were pathetically slurred. He struggled to make them sharp around his heavy tongue, to no avail, really. "Not since mom and dad d-- _Oh_!"

Tony wasn't sure if cutting him off was intentional, but when Bucky's mouth wrapped around his cock, he couldn't care less. His legs spread of their own accord, and his hands flapped about when he didn't know what to do with them. He buried them in Bucky's hair, then drew them back to grasp at the bedsheets, repeating the motions twice more before Bucky pulled off and said, "Put them over your head."

It was easy, so _easy_ to obey; Tony didn't even have to think about it. He lifted his hands up and twisted them in the duvet above his head. It wasn't enough, not by a long shot, but it helped settle the weight in his chest. Bucky stared at him contemplatively, and then rose off of him.

Tony's head snapped up to protest, the "No!" just on the tip of his tongue, but Bucky only walked to the nightstand and pulled out a pair of manacles that matched the collar on Tony's neck.

Every muscle in Tony's body seized up in anticipation. He didn't say anything-- _couldn't_ say anything. He held perfectly still as Bucky threaded the cuffs through the bars of the headboard and snapped each one around his wrist.

They were heavy and unforgiving, almost medieval, really. Unlined, not like your average bedroom handcuffs, but loose enough that they didn't chafe or squeeze. In his position, Tony could lift them up over his head, but knew fatigue would set in soon enough if he held them up for long. With the cuffs, his range of movement was more severely limited than with the collar alone, but he couldn't find it in himself to care.

The last of the tension bled out of his body, and he felt nearly boneless. His eyes slid shut when he felt powerless to keep them open any longer, and he tugged absently at the cuffs if only to feel them hold him back. A breathless moan escaped him, and warm pleasure rolled through his body.

He was sinking hard and fast, and he wasn't quite sure anymore if he didn't want it.

Bucky was back on top of him. Tony thought he should put in an effort to look at him, but when he opened his eyes, they felt heavy and blurred. He shut them again. "Better?" the assassin asked, his breath warm over Tony's face.

"Please," Tony moaned, rolling his body against Bucky's. The back of his mind was screaming at him--gurgling to be more accurate, like someone screaming under water--but he couldn't make out the words and didn't want to muster up the effort. "Please," he tried again when Bucky didn't move. He tipped his head back and arched his spine; Bucky seemed to like that position.

“Beautiful,” was the murmured praise, and it swallowed Tony whole. The word washed over him and sunk beneath his skin, and Tony only wanted to hear it again.

“Please,” he whined, wanting Bucky to say it again and again and again. A dark chuckle answered him, and lips teased at his ear.

“You’re beautiful in your submission,” those lips said sweetly while hands trailed down from his elbows to his chest to his stomach, caressing and massaging and teasing. Tony whined and moved against the touch. “This is the way you should be all the time, tied up and taken down and held there. Look at you; you’re gorgeous like this.” A sob escaped Tony’s mouth, and he was powerless to stop it. “Nobody takes care of you like this, do they? Nobody knows that _this_ is what you want.” Tony cried out when Bucky’s hand found his cock and stroked it gently. “To be held down, to be used, to not have to _think_.”

God, yes. 

Yes, he wanted this. No one has taken care of him like this since… well, ever, but he’d experienced an approximation of this several times in his youth, and he’d loved every second of it. _Craved_ it like a thirsty man craved water.

He’d learned later on--and he’d thank Ty for this--that it was a weakness, a liability to submit, and when he took over the helm of Stark Industries, he buried the need beneath his image, beneath his aura, beneath his ideas and schematics and weapons, beneath Iron Man, and when Steve came along, he buried his need beneath Steve’s own need to be cared for.

And now it was bursting out of him without his consent, tearing at the seams of his mind and engulfing his senses. He could no longer reason, no longer _think_ , only submit.

“I’ll take care of you, Tony,” Bucky promised. His lips hovered over Tony’s, and Tony wanted to drag him down for a kiss. His arms instinctively came up to do so, but the manacles snapped back at him. A hitched sob was drawn from his mouth when he remembered their presence. “Shhh, let me,” the assassin urged. “Lie back and let me think for you. Just feel.”

Tony cried out when Bucky’s mouth wrapped once more around his cock. His nerves raced fire radiating outwards from his groin until he could feel it in the tips of his fingers and toes. Bucky didn’t let up once, not even when Tony thrusted into his mouth. Instead, he straddled Tony’s legs to keep them down without failing to suck and stroke and lick and kiss while Tony thrashed beneath him. His fingers dug bruises into Tony’s skin where he kept his hips steady with his hands, the restraint and the dull pain only making him all the more desperate for release. 

It was building at the base of his spine, and it didn’t take long for him to shout his orgasm into Bucky’s mouth. The assassin sucked him through it, drank him down, and sucked him beyond that.

Tony sobbed when oversensitivity tickled at him, but Bucky didn’t let up. He used that, used the overwhelming sensation to tease Tony, to push him further down until his entire being could only focus on Bucky’s mouth on his cock. He sobbed, and it sounded distant even to his own ears. He struggled because he wanted more, and Bucky gave and gave and gave.

And then he was coming a second time with jarring intensity--he hadn’t been all the way hard and he had no come left to give, but the sensation of coming in spite of those things was debilitating. His mouth was open, but no sound was forthcoming. He hung there, suspended in tension, until he could hear Bucky calling for him through the haze.

Bucky kissed him. Tony was crying, but that didn’t seem to stop him. He kissed Tony and whispered words of praise into his mouth until Tony could kiss back. They spent minutes, hours maybe, kissing softly, gently, Bucky laid out above him, holding him down, literally and figuratively. 

Only when his sobs had died out to whimpers and moans did Bucky twist him onto his front. He pushed Tony’s knees up beneath him and pushed them apart. Then he smoothed his hand over his spine, encouraging. Instinct guided Tony to arch his back; his body knew what Bucky wanted. He was presenting, he knew what that entailed, and he didn’t care.

He held his position for the longest while, patiently waiting for Bucky even when his whole body screamed for attention. He kept his head down and kept his breathing steady, listening to a drawer creak when Bucky pulled it open and shut. He didn’t need to know how the next part would go, didn’t need to think.

The bed dipped when Bucky climbed back onto it, and the pleasure of anticipation curled in Tony’s belly. He wasn’t hard, wasn’t even half hard--after two consecutive orgasms, he couldn’t be--but that hardly mattered.

It mattered even less when Bucky’s mouth was on his hole without forewarning.

Tony screamed into the pillow his face was buried in, and his arms snapped at the chains. They drove him to frustration because he wanted to sink his hands in Bucky’s hair and just ride his mouth, but the frustration aroused him, and he whined. Bucky’s hands spread his ass wider and his tongue circled around his hole, not teasing but just tasting. And when it dipped inside, Tony yelped and pushed himself back onto Bucky’s face. A dark chuckle met his action, muffled by his ass, and fuck, Tony didn’t know how much more aroused he could get.

Bucky ate him out, with moans and hums to compliment his licking and sucking. His hands squeezed the globes of his ass, pressing more delicious bruises there. His teeth scraped at the furled ring that opened for his tongue. And Tony was crying again.

“I can’t,” he begged when it was clear Bucky was driving him into another orgasm. “Please, Bucky, please, I can’t.” Bucky’s tongue stabbed into him once twice, repeatedly and flattened out to lick inside him. And then a hand--a metal hand, dear God--curled around his flaccid cock and stroked him in time with the motions of the tongue. “I can’t!” Tony cried. His hips moved between the mouth at his ass and the hand at his cock. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, Bucky, please.” But his hips were moving, and Bucky wasn’t stopping. “Pleasepleasepleaseplease.” Teeth teased at his rim again, and the tongue was _squirming_ inside of him, and the hand was tearing at his resolve. And Tony broke.

When he came, his hips stuttered back and forth between both sensations, and from his mouth fell a ridiculous and embarrassing, “Uhngh uhngh uhngh uhngh!” 

Bucky left him while he was still riding out his orgasm, his hips thrusting into nothingness, but he came back with a vengeance.

His cock speared straight into Tony’s orgasm-loosened hole, claiming it with one thrust.

Tony tossed his head back and _screamed_. Pain, pleasure, he didn’t know. What he did know was that it was _too much_. 

Bucky caught his chin and held his head against his chest as he fucked into Tony without pausing, without slowing. His cock was lubed, but it dragged against the walls of Tony’s ass--a tongue wasn’t enough prep after all--but the pain only increased the pleasure of the act. It pricked at the pleasure-filled nerve endings in his body and engulfed him.

His thrusts were relentless and furious, and in themselves mind-crippling. And then Bucky angled his hips downward, and Tony’s world went white.

A scream was stuck in his throat, he knew, and his body was frozen solid. For a moment, he wondered if he was permanently paralyzed, but then sensation came rushing back like an avalanche. Bucky pounded on his prostate as relentlessly as before, unapologetically ruthless. 

Sensation drowned him, and pleasure clawed at him. Tony couldn’t think, couldn’t _breathe_. He held there, hung in the middle of ‘not enough’ and ‘too much,’ and then Bucky jerked his head back and was ravaging his mouth once more.

Heat flooded into Tony’s body, warming him from the inside, out as Bucky’s come filled him. The orgasming hips stuttered erratically into him, and Tony pushed back to look for more of those delicious thrusts, not willing to give this up just yet.

With a deep sigh, Bucky released Tony, letting him melt bonelessly into the bed. He breathed slow and deep, just a few times, three that Tony could count, but maybe more than that--he couldn’t seem to focus on any more--and then he was pulling out. A noise Tony couldn’t identify escaped him as his hole was unplugged and a trickle of come slid down his balls.

The bed dipped and shifted, and Tony groaned out a protest. He wanted Bucky back, wanted him to kiss his neck and tell him he was gorgeous like he did before. The manacles rattled as Tony shifted his hands to seek Bucky out, but on finding they held true, lifted his head up to see Bucky staring down at him.

“Please?” he slurred, not quite sure if that was right, but his brain was muddled, and he didn’t want to think about it. Bucky said nothing, his eyes hard and mouth set in a thin line. Then he stepped aside, and Tony’s eyes were drawn to the TV where Steve was kneeling on the floor, shoulders drooping and eyes wide with hurt, and everything came crashing around Tony. 

“Steve,” he blinked, mouth forming around the name. He moved to sit up, but ended up entangled in the bedsheets because he was still lying on his front. He blinked up at Bucky for help, but the assassin had yet to move. “Bucky…?” he asked, twisting in the sheets. His muscles seemed to have given up their coordination and only managed to squeeze more come out of his ass and onto his balls. He hissed, held still and breathed deep. And when he looked back up, both Steve and Bucky were gone.

His chest squeezed painfully tight, and he buried his face into the pillow to staunch his incoming sobs.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, this chapter was not as forthcoming as the first chapter, and after two major revisions, I'm still not completely satisfied with it, to be honest. I feel like I'm _missing something_ , and for that reason, I really shouldn't be posting this yet at all. But ugh. This chapter.
> 
> Ugh. This fic.
> 
> It's _consuming me_. So here, take it. I can't anymore.
> 
> Apparently, it's so much easier to take them apart than put them back together again XD _Why must we hurt the ones we love??_
> 
> Hopefully, I addressed all the issues that needed addressing. If not. Well. I'll cross that bridge when I get there.

Steve was desperate.

He'd been wanting to get out of the cage since they put him there (which was, of course, a logical reaction from anyone held against their will) and had tried everything at his disposal, though there had not been much to begin with--to do so, but nothing had worked, so he had then resolved to wait.

Bucky had come in some hours after he'd woken in the morning, and Steve had tried everything he could think of to get Bucky to let him out--talking, bargaining, pleading, jostling his memories--but like his superstrength against the cage, those too had failed, and all he could do was wait for another chance when Bucky came back or wait for rescue.

Then the TV had turned on, and now, Steve was desperate.

He screamed, knowing they could hear him, but they ignored him as Bucky continued to kiss Tony. 

It was bad, it was bad because everything contained in the screen did not bode well for Tony: naked and restrained on a bed with Bucky--not much more dressed than he was--kissing him.

Tony's eyes were wide with shock, and he was motionless while Bucky continued to coax a response out of him. When he pulled away, Tony stuttered a plea to stop, bargained, offered. Steve knew it wasn't going to work, but when Bucky leaned close to Tony's ear, he hoped.

They were speaking more softly now, Steve couldn't hear, so he leaned forward as close as he could and watched closely, picking cues from their body language. He saw the exact moment Tony's whole body froze--a threat?--and then his eyes met Steve’s, asking permission, offering apologies, and Steve’s heart stopped. 

They kissed once more, and Tony’s hand slowly, shaking, lifted to rest on Bucky's shoulder.

"Tony!" Steve screamed, fear bubbling up inside him, and once more fought the bars. He pushed and pulled and barrelled them down, all without taking his eyes off the screen where Tony was opening up to Bucky like a lover would.

He wouldn't betray Steve like that, he _wouldn't_ , not for a "random fling" with someone he knew meant a lot to Steve and not when he knew Steve could see him. Bucky _had_ to have threatened him. 

To some degree, Steve was relieved that Bucky was gentle and that Tony was cooperating to keep it that way because rape in itself was already bad enough, a violent one was even worse. He mentally willed Tony to continue cooperating, keep Bucky calm, keep himself from getting hurt while he continued his rage against the bars.

(Somehow, Steve thought it would be easier if Tony _was_ cheating on him. It would hurt less for both of them.)

But when the first gasp fell from Tony's mouth, Steve suddenly stopped fighting.

“Gonna be so good to you, Tony,” Bucky said gently, and Steve was grateful, and he was crushed because Tony moaned his approval.

“Tony…” he tried before quickly shutting himself up. Tony should forget him right now, should do what Bucky says, and Steve can’t interfere or he might get Tony hurt.

“Gonna make you feel so good, baby. I know exactly what you need.” _How_? How could he possibly know what Tony needed when Steve himself didn’t? What did Tony need? 

“You need to let go.” Let go? Let go? What did he mean? But Tony’s entire body only visibly loosened at that, his lover possessing none of the confusion Steve did. Steve ached to touch him, to hold him, to feel the ever-present tension in him recede. 

"You need someone take care of you, take you apart and put you back together, see to your needs before their own." Every word made Tony go lax more and more, and Steve… How could Bucky know what Tony needed? How could he know the exact words to say to make Tony... well, _that_? Steve took care of Tony; how _dare_ Bucky imply otherwise?

But Tony was responding to him with an ease he’d never responded to Steve with, and Steve could only stare, defeated, at the screen where he could see Tony arch into Bucky's touch, could see Tony's face utterly blissed, could see him respond to Bucky without an ounce of hesitation that would imply he didn't want this.

Tony moved with a lazy grace that Steve had not seen of him before--not that he was graceless, but he was usually more precise in his movement. This was almost uncoordinated, almost desperate, but provocative. And for a moment, Steve was stuck wondering how--why he'd never seen this of Tony.

"How long has it been, Tony?"

"Not since mom and dad d-- _Oh_!"

Not since they'd died.

Not since they'd died, _what_?

But Tony's legs were falling apart, and he was moaning in wanton abandon. His hands didn't know what to do with themselves where they were usually so precise as an engineer's hands had to be. So much so that Bucky pulled out a pair of handcuffs.

Steve started, caught between protesting and _shutting the hell up_ because those would keep Tony from defending himself better if he needed to. But that didn't seem to matter though because once the handcuffs went on, Tony _melted_.

"Better?" Bucky asked.

"Please," Tony begged, and oh, his voice was breathy and soft and beautiful. He rolled his body against Bucky's, wanton and guiltless. He tipped his head back and arched up, and Bucky's eyes flickered to Steve's.

There was no smile, no smugness, only a demonstration of how he was taking what was being so readily offered to him. “Beautiful,” he said, still holding Steve’s gaze. Tony’s “please” filtered past them, and Bucky continued. 

“You’re beautiful in your submission. This is the way you should be all the time, tied up and taken down and held there. Look at you; you’re gorgeous like this.” And he was. He _was_. “Nobody takes care of you like this, do they? Nobody knows that this is what you want.” Tony’s cry of pleasure struck Steve down to the core, making him fall to his knees. He… He did take care of Tony…He _did_. “To be held down, to be used, to not have to think.” Bucky smiled at Steve, darkness curling at the corners of his mouth.

“I’ll take care of you, Tony.” And Tony _gave_ himself to Bucky.

Steve's gut clenched in anger, in helplessness, in inadequacy. 

He had never gotten Tony to surrender to him so completely, to make him cry and thrash and scream. To make him _want_ and _give_ like he gave to Bucky. 

God, he was so beautiful like this and Steve couldn't tear his eyes away, couldn’t stop himself from _wanting_ even when he knew his boyfriend, his lover was being taken against his will (no matter what lies fell from Bucky's mouth). He couldn't tear his eyes away because that sight of Tony, the way he arched his back, the moans that fell from his mouth, the blissed expression on his face, his response to each of Bucky's touches? 

Steve wanted it for himself.

Steve wanted to claw his eyes out for even thinking such a thing. He felt disgust at his thoughts creeping under his skin like ants, tempering his arousal. But he had never seen Tony in this state before. He couldn't even have imagined such a thing because Tony had never given any indication that that was what he wanted. 

He guided Steve and took automatic control in bed, and never said a word that he could do _that_. Granted Steve did his best to give back what Tony gave him, but Tony never... never _cried_ for him. Tony was never anything less than in full control, and to see him otherwise?

Steve watched Bucky take his lover apart, watch him give Tony what he needed, watched him take Tony for himself, watched Tony give up and give in and beg for more.

That last "please" tore at Steve's heart. Tony looked blissed and sated in a way that he never did with Steve, his eyes glassy and unfocused, his body sinuous in its bonelessness--and this from someone who took him without his consent!

How could he, who had never known the taste of flesh before Tony, give him any approximation of that?

Tony’s eyes met his, and a soft, confused “Steve” left his mouth. Unable to do much more, Steve watched him struggle in the bed, his movements clumsy and spent. Then the feed cut with an abruptness that startled Steve from his musings. 

Bucky entered the room again minutes later, holding a set of keys in one hand and a phone in the other. He hung the keys on a hook, well out of Steve's reach, and tossed the phone through the bars at him.

"You can call for help with that," he said, as if Steve didn't understand that much.

"Why?" Steve croaked, and he wasn't talking about the sudden change of heart with their kidnapping. Bucky looked up at him, a smile curling at the corners of his mouth. There was a beat where Bucky considered him, and then he spoke.

"Nothing you will do for him, Captain, will ever make him feel as good as that," he said with all the easy confidence of someone who had shredded Tony's massive intellect into varying repetitions of "please." Steve knew that, he _knew that_ , but it didn't answer his question. 

Bucky left the room before Steve could ask again.

……………...

When the local SHIELD unit arrived and released him from the cage two hours later and after he'd quickly redressed with the clothes they provided him with, he nabbed the keys off the agent and sprinted out into the main hall.

It took him several tries to find the room Tony was held in. Upstairs was his best bet, but that still meant he had three different rooms to look into, all of them looking well-lived in and cozy (Steve vaguely hoped the Winter Soldier didn’t kill the family that seemed to live there). 

Three agents milled about on the top floor, one of them holding Steve’s and Tony’s personal effects, but Steve ignored and sidestepped them. At the last possible room at the end of the hall--which really should have been the first place he checked--Steve shoved aside a fourth agent who had his hand on the doorknob. The agent jumped back and held his hands up defensively.

“I’ll take care of this,” Steve said coldly, dismissively and glared at them till they vacated the floor. The, gently, he pushed the door open.

He found Tony in the exact same position Bucky left him in: lying on his front on the bed with the duvet twisted haphazardly around his waist--preserving little modesty as it only covered parts of his legs and rear. His arms were strung up tight and stretched out over his head, making the muscles of his back stand out in stark relief, tension straining them into rigidity.

Steve unchained him quickly, but Tony barely moved except to lift his head for Steve to take the collar off and to draw his arms closer around his head, like he was shielding himself from falling debris. His face was turned away from Steve, but he could see the corner of one eye open and unblinking.

"Tony," he tried, placing his hand on the small of his back. Tony sucked in a breath and recoiled from it suddenly as though he was burned, and _oh_ that stung. 

Intellectually, Steve understood his response, but emotionally, he could only think of how Tony had moved _into _Bucky's touch.__

__"Go away, Steve," Tony murmured, his voice muffled by his arm, slurring like he was drunk._ _

__"Tony," Steve tried again, though he didn't touch him this time. He sank onto the bed at Tony's feet and let out a heavy breath. He didn’t… What was he supposed to _do_? How do you console someone whose will had been stripped away? "I love you, Tony," he said, for lack of anything better to say, but injecting as much truth into that statement as he could._ _

__Tony was silent for a moment, still in a way that he never was. Then he whispered back, "I know."_ _

__Steve didn't know what to say. It was Tony who always did, who always knew how to fill silences and encourage conversation, always Tony who knew the correct words to use and the correct times to use them. And Steve…_ _

__Steve's hand hovered uselessly over Tony's calf, daring not to touch him and desperately wanting to do so._ _

__"Please," Tony begged, his whisper filling the room while indecision gripped Steve._ _

__Steve blinked and drew his hand away. "Okay," he answered, feeling massively useless. "I'll go get you some clothes." Tony said nothing, moved not a muscle, and Steve tried not to disturb that even when he returned with clothes._ _

__Tony had yet to move when he set the garments down on the bed, didn’t move when Steve took a second to watch him, didn’t move when he shut the door the last time, and Steve had to consciously stop himself from changing that. Instead, he took deep breaths and sank onto the floor beside the door._ _

__For a long while, there was no sound from the room, not even the near-silent shifting of the bedclothes that only Steve’ supersoldier hearing would pick up. He must have sat there for an hour at least, biding his time by running through the images on the TV screen, wondering and comparing and imagining. Each passing second was as horrid and as maddening as watching it all over again, and Steve was wallowing in despair._ _

__Then the bed creaked, and Steve's thoughts zeroed in on Tony._ _

__He waited and he listened because there was nothing else he could do. He tracked Tony’s movements by sound alone, and when the door finally opened, he was immediately on his feet._ _

__Tony strode out, posture upright, shoulders set, almost looking normal except for the hunted, glassy look of his eyes. Steve caught him and pulled him into his arms. He stroked Tony's cheek and kissed it even when Tony wouldn't look at him._ _

__"Sweetheart," he whispered, begging. Tony was cold in his arms, visibly strained and shying away from him, and though it broke Steve’s heart, he let him go. He wasn’t going to force Tony into anything he didn’t want._ _

__……………..._ _

__Steve refused a formal debrief and snapped at the senior agent who insisted on it when they’d touched down at HQ. The Winter Soldier was on the SHIELD public enemy list, after all--any information on his whereabouts was vital to them--and the agent didn’t know the specifics of their capture. He was only doing his job, and Steve should have understood that. But he didn’t care at that point in time. He only shielded Tony from prying eyes and hurried him out the building._ _

__Clint was there with a car ready, and Steve, in his gratefulness, didn’t ask how or why. He hustled Tony into the back seat and himself in the passenger side, and then Clint was zooming off to the tower._ _

__Tony was silent the entire ride, staring out the window and picking at his nails. Clint glanced a few times in the rearview mirror and shot Steve glances of varying emotions: questioning, sympathy, who-do-I-need-to-murder, and what-are-you-doing-about-this. Steve didn’t have responses to those looks, however, so he ignored Clint and focused on the road._ _

__Despite New York traffic, it took them little time to get home. On arriving at the parking garage, Steve held open the car door for Tony who slid out and walked to the private elevator without his usual gait, but instead a practiced elegance. It reminded Steve of those times Tony had come home from a gala, drunk and pretending not to show it._ _

__In the elevator, he took Tony’s hand and pressed a kiss to his knuckles, but quickly dropped it and stepped away when Tony turned a distraught look to him._ _

__It stung. Oh, how it stung. But if Tony needed him to stay away, he would._ _

__“Common floor okay? Or do you want your own floors?” Clint asked, voice oddly subdued, giving them both a quick glance. Tony’s eyes widened slightly, and he looked between them, at Clint first, then Steve. “It might help,” Clint continued evenly, softly, “if you aren’t alone.”_ _

__“I think that should be Tony’s choice,” Steve interrupted because giving Tony a choice, any choice was paramount right now. Steve swore that from this point on, Tony’s choice would always matter._ _

__Tony looked up at him, the hunted look still clear in his eyes. “I--” he started to say, but couldn’t seem to find the words to finish. There was still the slurring at the back of his tone that Steve heard in the house, and Steve wondered vaguely if Bucky had intoxicated him with something. Tony’s mouth opened and closed several times, and his gaze darted back and forth between Steve and Clint._ _

__The elevator opened onto the common floor anyway which was the first to come up. Clint stepped back just enough to stand in the doorway and keep the doors open. He tilted his head into the living room where Natasha, Thor, Bruce, and Phil were sitting solemnly. “Coming?” he asked casually. Tony glanced up at Steve, who took that as a no. He shook his head._ _

__“I think he just needs some time to be alone,” he offered. “I’ll get him set up in the workshop, and I’ll be back.” The doors shut before them, and Steve glanced once more at Tony. His face was still full of hurt and confusion, and Steve wanted to take him into his arms and kiss him and hold him and hide him from the world until that look in his eyes disappeared. But he also knew that wasn’t what Tony wanted, so on his floor, Steve gave him a wide berth to exit the elevator and followed him down into the workshop._ _

__The bots greeted him with enthusiasm, and he stroked their struts absently. Jarvis was unusually silent, but unlike the bots, he understood the gravity of the situation._ _

__“You gonna be okay here?” Steve asked, and Tony blinked at him._ _

__“You’re going now?” he asked. There was a tremble in his voice that Steve didn’t know how to even begin to wipe away._ _

__“I’ll give you some space,” he answered because he truly didn’t want to go, but he was going to put Tony’s needs before his own. “Jarvis is here. He can call me if you need anything.”_ _

__“What am I--what do I...” Tony faltered then stopped completely. He looked down. “Please…” And it broke Steve’s heart the way Tony begged for it. He wanted to help, he always wanted to help when Tony locked himself in the workshop for days at a time until a lack of food forced him downstairs. He stayed away because Tony needed this. Now, it hurt even more to leave, but now, it was so much more important that he did._ _

__He turned to leave the workshop, but stopped briefly at the threshold. “I love you, Tony,” he murmured into the silence. “Don’t forget that.” The door swished shut behind him and he made his way down to the common floor where the entire team was still patiently waiting._ _

__He sighed and sunk into one of the sofas, an arm thrown over his face._ _

__“He took us out on our way down to Ristretto, down on 3rd,” was what he started with because he was going to have to debrief sooner or later, and Natasha--and consequently the rest of them--were going to know five minutes flat after he finished. He put his arm down and looked at Phil. It was easier that way to pretend this was a regular debrief and not the worst day of Steve’s life, going down into the ice included. “Tranqs, I would assume; I felt the prick on the back of my neck. I don’t know how he got us out of there, but I woke up in the cargo hold of a passenger plane, in that… cage. I couldn’t break it open or bend the bars--did you find out what it was?” Phil shook his head._ _

__“They’re still checking it out in the lab, but initial tests show it’s a carbonadium derivative.” Steve nodded and continued._ _

__“I didn’t see him or Tony for the six hours I was conscious in flight, but as soon as we landed and the cargo doors opened, he was there with a group of men I couldn’t identify. One of them must have dosed me again with the tranq because the next time I woke up, I was at the house. Bucky came into the room some hours later.”_ _

__“What did he say?”_ _

__“Nothing,” Steve shrugged. “He sat there in silence for over an hour, and I asked and I spoke and I told him about our past, but he said nothing. And then at about lunch time, he just left.” The next part…_ _

__The next part, he didn’t know what he wanted to tell them, he didn’t know if he should because this was Tony’s story to tell._ _

__“There was a TV in the room. It turned on, and… and Tony was on it.” They waited, sharing glances, but remaining silent, and Steve struggled with what to say. Tony would know what to say. “Bucky was with him, and though I could hear them and they could hear me, there were some things that they talked about that I wasn’t a part of and couldn’t hear.” He looked down at his hands._ _

__“And then?” Phil prompted while Steve tried to compose his thoughts._ _

__“I can’t…” The soldier closed his hands into fists, squeezing hard. “Tony should tell you his part, but for me, after--” He cut himself off and buried his face in his hands, hunched over and shaking in anger. “Bucky came back, left the keys in the room I was in and told me to call for help.”_ _

__Silence answered him._ _

__They were intelligent enough to guess the part he glossed over, that he was sure of. Guilt overcame him at the thought that Tony may not have wanted them to know, and he berated himself for not _knowing_ what to do or say. But the damage was done._ _

__“Steve,” said Natasha’s soft voice. It was an unusual tone because there was no precedent for Natasha’s delicacy. Seductive: sure, crass: yes, biting: all the time, but not delicate. Her hands pried Steve’s away from his face. Her face was worried, but beneath it, he could see simmering anger. “It wasn’t your fault,” she told him. “Nothing you did would have changed the Winter Soldier’s mind. His purpose is singular, and it’s usually focused on destruction and death.” She waited for a nod, which Steve was hesitant to give._ _

__“Phil says you didn’t go through Medical. Is Tony alright?” Bruce asked. He was fidgeting where he was sat, but Steve knew he had experienced some more gruesome situations when he was in India. He was probably hoping it didn’t come to that. Steve shook his head._ _

__“It wasn’t… violent,” he explained, to assuage Bruce’s fear._ _

__“What do you mean?” Natasha’s eyes were narrowed in confusion. She hated being confused._ _

__“He wasn’t…” Steve tried, but it was hard to spit out details of your loved one’s rape. He gritted his teeth against the discomfort. “He wasn’t violent with Tony. He… made Tony enjoy it.”_ _

__“How?” Now Clint’s eyes were narrowed, and Steve glared at him. Need to know information was one thing, nosing into businesses that weren’t his was another. Clint shook his head. “No, Steve, wait. You don’t understand. The way Tony was acting? I thought it was strange at first, but I didn’t say anything because it wasn’t my place to question. But with the context you gave… Yeah, he’s showing some signs of rape trauma, but that wasn’t all.”_ _

__This time Steve was confused. What else was there? Tony was quiet and withdrawn, but wasn’t that normal? Well, sure, he didn’t have much experience dealing with victims of that kind, so he didn’t know for sure._ _

__“What do you mean?” he asked, but Clint turned to Natasha._ _

__“You need to go to him,” he told Natasha. “I think he’s dropping.” Natasha’s eyes grew wide. She jumped to her feet with a loud curse and then she was running up the stairs. Steve blinked, confused and alarmed. He moved to follow, but Clint held him back. “Cap, wait!”_ _

__“What do you mean ‘dropping’? What does that mean?” Steve demanded, shaking Clint’s arm off._ _

__“Exactly!” Clint said, as he rushed to block Steve’s path. Thor sidled up beside the archer, looking just as confused as Steve did, but trusting Clint’s judgement not to let Steve through. Clint quickly explained before they could all come to blows. “Cap, you’re an idiot, but it’s not your fault. You didn’t know. Let me--Well, Phil can maybe explain it better, but listen first or else you’re going to go to Tony and make it a whole lot worse.”_ _

__Steve glanced once at the elevator, but because he trusted Clint’s judgement, too, he sat back down. Clint gestured at Phil to start explaining, so the agent took a deep breath._ _

__“When you have sex, it feels good, right?” he started with. Steve didn’t bother answering because there was really only one answer to that, and Steve didn’t appreciate being handled with kid gloves. “Well, think about all the times you have the kind of sex you really, really like, and it feels ten times better than just regular sex. Sex gives us a natural high through the release of endorphins. It’s why we like it so much. The better the sex, the more it appeals to us, the greater the high we get._ _

__“And then there’s the kind of high you get from what’s called ‘headspace.’_ _

__“It’s an altered psychological state of being brought on by adrenalin and endorphins from very intense sex. Some people who experience this reach states that are not dissimilar from mind-altering drugs. You can usually tell if someone’s in headspace because they become less aware of their surroundings, uncharacteristic, uncoordinated, sometimes even non-verbal.” Steve thought about how Tony’s vocabulary drastically degenerated into litanies of “please” and “Bucky,” how he could barely speak without slurring, his graceless movements, uninhibited _begging_._ _

__“It’s highly necessary to take these people down gently after the sex scene to make sure they don’t crash--or rather, ‘drop’ as its more commonly referred to. It entails a great deal of, well, cuddling, talking, reassurance, and touching. Providing food and water helps, too. I would assume Barnes did none of this.” Steve shook his head absently._ _

__“What happens when someone… drops?” he asked carefully. Phil sighed._ _

__“It’s different from person to person, and it really depends how high someone gets to know how hard he or she’s going to drop. Symptoms can be as simple as restlessness to as complicated as self-worth issues and depression.”_ _

__And what did Tony have? Steve wanted to ask, but that was a question he was supposed to know how to answer. _He_ was Tony’s boyfriend, _he_ should know how different Tony was acting, _he_ was supposed to be taking care of Tony, not Phil, not Clint, not Natasha. He stood._ _

__“I can do that,” he said. “I should do that.” He turned to go._ _

__Clint didn’t hold him back, this time, but Phil added, “It might take some time, Steve. Entering headspace for all the wrong reasons makes drops worse than usual. I can arrange for someone to talk to him if he needs it.” Steve gave Phil a nod of thanks._ _

__……………..._ _

__He was in open water with this. Phil’s little lecture couldn’t even constitute a crash course on the subject, and Steve needed more information, needed to look into this more._ _

__But Tony needed him first, and talking and touching and reassurance, he could do._ _

__He stopped by the kitchen to grab some food, but for a long moment, he floundered. What do you give someone who’s dropping? Is there anything special they need to eat? He should have asked. He should have--_ _

__Bruce pressed a packet of crackers into his hand and gave him a bottle of water._ _

__“That should do for now,” he said. “I’ll bring up something later.” Steve hugged him with an emphatic “thank you” and ran up the way Natasha did._ _

__Jarvis let him in almost as soon as he reached the workshop’s door. Inside, he found Natasha sitting on the couch, and on moving further inside, saw Tony curled up in her lap eyes shut and breathing even and deep. His arms were littered with scratches, some a deep red, some bleeding, and Steve cursed himself for leaving him alone_ _

__Natasha gave him a sharp glance, reprimanding, but not angry. He was an idiot, he knew, she knew. He set the crackers and water on a nearby bench, and sat on a stool, waiting for her permission, her rebuke. She gave him neither._ _

__“He think you don’t want him anymore,” she told him instead. Her voice was quiet in the eerie stillness of the workshop--even the bots were quiet in their charging stations when they’d usually be zipping around with gusto. But it was her words that got to him._ _

__“What? Why?” he balked. His eyes turned to Tony and wanted to pull him into his arms and hold him tight until he understood that Steve would never not want him, and certainly not for that reason._ _

__“Jarvis?” Natasha called out. “Replay earlier for Steve, low volume.”_ _

__“Of course, Ms. Romanoff.” A holographic screen flickered into view and split into the four different angles of the cameras around the room._ _

__“Tony?” Natasha on screen called into the workshop. She appeared at the doorway, in the direct line of sight of one of the cameras. For a second, Steve couldn’t see Tony, but another camera angle showed him sitting against a workbench leg, curled in on himself. His body was shaking, and Steve could hear small sobs. “Oh, baby,” Natasha said, rushing over and wrapping her arms around his shoulders. “Baby, what’s wrong?” Her voice was soft and sweet, and the endearment tugged even at Steve’s heart._ _

__Tony was stiff and resisted her at first, but it only took a moment for Natasha to coax him into her arms. She ran her fingers through his hair and stroked the back of his neck, murmuring platitudes and endearments at him. “Tell me what’s wrong, baby, so that I can fix this.”_ _

__Tony gave a loud hiccup, but seemed to find the will to speak. “Steve--He. I ch… eated on Steve, Tasha,” he confessed through his sobs, and it was wrong. It was so wrong that Steve was half tempted to argue with a video recording._ _

__“Oh no, baby, no you didn’t. Don’t you think that, baby. Steve doesn’t think that.”_ _

__“He… he left me, he doesn’t want m--me.” Tony hiccuped again and coughed twice._ _

__“Baby, Steve didn’t leave you. He loves you. You know that,” Natasha crooned. She nuzzled Tony’s temple and held him tight against her chest. Her fingers found the skin beneath his shirt and stroked the line of his back, and though each of those were lover’s touches, Steve only felt thankful that she was there to help Tony._ _

__“H--he left me because I’m dirty and disgusting, and I let Bucky fuck me. He tied me up and made me come over and over and then he fucked me, and… and I enjoyed it, Tasha. God, I don’t remember enjoying sex so much.” That... that hurt because he and Tony had sex near every day. And to be trumped by _that_..._ _

__Steve needed to be better. He resolved to be better, to give Tony what he needed just as much as Tony gave him what he did, and if Tony wanted _that_ , well Steve was happy to learn it so that he could give it to him._ _

__“Just because you felt good doesn’t mean you wanted it. The Winter Soldier is good at manipulation, at seduction. You didn’t cheat on Steve, baby. You don’t love Bucky, and you didn’t want it.”_ _

__“I did!” Tony protested. “I did want it. Oh God, I still want it.”_ _

__“But you don’t want him,” Natasha insisted. “You want what he did, and if you ask Steve, he’ll give that to you. Without question, without a doubt. Baby, Steve loves you. He’ll do anything for you, do you understand?” It was like Natasha knew how to read his mind, knew what he was thinking hours ahead of when he thought it. Tony had nothing to say to that, it seemed, because he pressed in tighter to Natasha’s chest and hiccupped._ _

__The video cut off._ _

__“Thank you,” was the first thing out of Steve’s mouth. Natasha sighed and pushed Tony’s hair back from his face._ _

__“He’s still stuck in subspace,” she said gently. “It’ll be a while before you can pull him out of it. He’s already got so little confidence especially where you’re concerned, Steve. And combined with this? With what happened? He’s going to feel disgusted with himself for days. He’s going to wallow in despair, in self-pity.”_ _

__“Where I’m concerned?” Steve asked. “I’ve never seen him as anything _but_.” Natasha shook her head._ _

__“Of course he wouldn’t tell you. He’ll bluster his way through it, he’ll wait on you hand and foot, give you everything you want in the hope that you don’t even think of leaving him. You know what he’s like, Cap. And you are the catch of his life. He’ll do anything in his power to keep you from becoming the one that got away. At his own expense, if necessary.” Her look at Tony spoke volumes about the frustration, exasperation, and fondness that came with being Tony Stark’s friend. Steve imagined he often wore that same look._ _

__She looked back up at him. “Keep in sight always. Touch him as often as you can. Reassure him that this changes nothing, that you want him now as much as you did then.” He could do that. He could do that so very readily, she needn’t have told him to. “Just… just take a couple of days. Just you and him. One of his houses elsewhere if you want. We’ll take care of everything else.” She carefully stood and allowed Steve to take her place without jostling Tony around too much. Steve caught her hand and gave it a firm squeeze._ _

__“I’m sorry,” he said because it needed to be. Natasha shook her head. “And thank you. For, you know. Being his friend.” Her smile was soft and genuine. Then she turned to leave._ _

__…………..._ _

__"Hi, sweetheart," Steve murmured when Tony began to stir, keeping his tone light and sweet. He brushed back Tony's hair from his face and stroked his cheek with his thumb._ _

__Tony mumbled softly, and then his eyes opened, and Steve found himself looking into wide brown orbs. They were still wet and red rimmed from crying, but the pupils were blown wide, making him look almost like a begging cat. Steve smiled and stroked his lips since he couldn't quite bend himself in half to kiss them._ _

__"Steve?" Tony whispered, almost in disbelief. And then his face filled with despair and his eyes with tears._ _

__"Hey, no, shhh," Steve murmured quickly when the first hiccup escaped him. He hitched Tony up and kissed him, gentle but intent, until a hand halfheartedly pushed at his chest._ _

__"No, s--stop, please," Tony sobbed into his mouth, and even though now Steve recognized it as an act of self depreciation instead of actual protest, he still pulled away. Still, he compromised by keeping their mouths close enough to brush against the other's when they spoke._ _

__"I told you I love you," he murmured, stealing kisses between every other word. "Nothing will ever change that, sweetheart. And especially not now." Tony hiccupped again. "Darling, look at me," Steve said, and felt a warmth spread through him when Tony obeyed immediately. "I love you, and I will never, ever leave you." Tony buried his face in Steve's neck, so Steve stroked his hair._ _

__"He--" A sob cut Tony off, but he fought through it. "He was going to kill you if--if I didn't. Didn't play."_ _

__"Shhh," Steve murmured. "I know you didn't want him to do that. You don't need to explain." Tony nodded against his neck and clutched tightly at his shirt._ _

__Steve held him for a long while, murmuring endearments and reassurances like Natasha had done before him, and when the trembling of Tony's body slowed, he suggested, "Let's take a bath.” Tony froze in his arms._ _

__“I’m sorry,” he said in a tiny, tiny voice. He struggled in Steve’s arms, aiming to get away. “I’m disgusting, I’m sorry, you shouldn’t--I’m sorry. I’ll--”_ _

__Steve kissed him to shut him up and held him tight. “You’re not disgusting to me. You won’t ever be. I should be sorry, not you. We should have done this earlier. It’ll make you feel better, that’s my only concern, but if you don’t want to, we won’t, and I won’t be disgusted. I promise you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” There was still tension in him, of course there was, but Steve felt it slowly draining away._ _

__"Will--will you come, too?" Steve smiled and kissed him._ _

__"Of course, sweetheart, whatever you want." Tony nodded, and Steve rewarded him with another kiss. "You're so good for me," Steve told him, and a sharp noise escaped Tony, not quite a sob, not quite a moan. "You are," Steve insisted, wanting to hear more of that noise. He kissed Tony, deep but gentle, and whispered against his mouth, "You're so good for me, I don't know what I did to have such a perfect lover like you."_ _

__"I--I'm not."_ _

__"Shush. You are. You're perfect to me, and I am so lucky to have you. I wouldn't want to have anybody else ever again." And it really was true._ _

__Tony hesitated, then leaned up and gave him a tentative kiss, the first one he initiated, and Steve smiled._ _

__"Do you want to take a bath now? I'll take such good care of you," he promised. "Because you're such a good boy." The endearment rolled off his tongue easily._ _

__Tony shut his eyes and sucked in a sharp breath, and when he opened his eyes, his pupils were blown even wider than before. It was a dazzling reaction. "I am?" he asked. Steve kissed his forehead._ _

__"So good. Such a good boy," he promised. "And do you know what good boys get for being so good?"_ _

__Tony blinked, his eyes wider and shining with eagerness._ _

__"Blowjobs?"_ _

__Steve was momentarily stunned, caught by the suddenness of the joke, even if Tony hadn’t meant for it to be one._ _

__And then he laughed joyously and loud, only amplified when Tony blinked in confusion--he was being perfectly serious, and the innocence was adorable, if unusual--so Steve kissed him._ _

__He kissed him, deep and thorough, because Tony, even in his altered state, even in their worrisome predicament could still bring Steve intense joy and laughter._ _

__He kissed Tony because how could he not?_ _

__"Yes, darling," he murmured. "Anything you want."_ _

__…………..._ _

___Six Months Later_ _ _

__"How're you feeling?" Steve murmured as he traced his lips down the length of Tony's spine and pressed a kiss on the tip of his tailbone. Tony moaned and rolled his hips into the press of Steve's mouth._ _

__"Up for another round if you don't stop that," he answered. He hadn't been out of his headspace long enough to keep his speech from slurring, but that he could speak straight and make jokes was a good sign anyway._ _

__It took him four days after the house to reach the same level of space as it now took him half an hour max._ _

__Though taking care of Tony that way during the days following their kidnapping had been a new and incredible experience for both of them that Steve was quite eager to repeat on a regular basis, it had worried Steve each day he hadn't come out of it._ _

__He'd grown worse for the first two days, and Steve had been half glad he'd taken Tony to one of his other houses, this one on a private island in the French Polynesia where he could indulge his every whim without the prying eyes of anyone else._ _

__Tony had been barely verbal and barely functioning. Steve helped him shower, dress, eat, drink, walk. His headspace messed with his anxiety attacks, making them more frequent than before even when he'd already been getting better. He'd gotten new episodes, too._ _

__Steve could only hold him tight and soothe him when he'd sink, and during the lull moments, read up on everything he could find about it._ _

__On the third day, he'd pulled into the childish innocence Steve had seen from him that first day back. It was sweet, and Steve had felt mild relief at the progress._ _

__On the fourth day, Tony had asked him to make love. Steve had avoided anything that could be compared with Bucky did, instead applying what he'd learned and making new memories to wash away the old ones. Tony had sunk into subspace a little bit more, but afterwards, Steve kissed him and touched him and told him how good he was. They'd repeated that twice more over the course of the day, and in the evening, Tony was more himself. Like his drunk self, but close enough for Steve to be relieved._ _

__Their fifth day, he could finally talk to Steve about it. About all of it._ _

__That had been an emotionally exhausting day._ _

__"No more rounds," Steve laughed, but his mouth still pressed kisses to Tony's rear that was still propped up on a pillow. "We've got a meeting to attend in a few hours, and you, like this, is only for me to see."_ _

__"Well then you'd best stop kissing my ass, Steve," Tony snarked, but a yelp and a moan ruined the effect when Steve bit on the join between ass and thigh. Steve laughed and grasped both cheeks to pry them apart. Tony moaned again, his hips rising higher. "I thought--" He gasped. "--no more rounds?" Steve did, too, but Tony's hole was still glistening with come and lube, and Steve was already hard._ _

__"Seems like a waste of this," he murmured, sliding his erection into the valley of Tony's ass. His lover whined and scrabbled for a hand hold on the bed. His hands found the bars of the headboard and pushed his entire body back into Steve. Steve huffed a laugh, but the next time he pulled back, he angled his dick to penetrate the puffy red hole. Tony sobbed a moan, so he leaned over and pressed a kiss behind Tony's ear._ _

__"You're so good for me, sweetheart. Look at how well you're doing," he murmured, thrusting lazily into Tony who pushed his face into a pillow to hide his pleasured sobs. "God, I could make love to you like this all day."_ _

__"Steve," came Tony's muffled whine. "You're supposed to give me aftercare, not push me back down." Steve chuckled._ _

__"I'd keep you like this all the time if I could. You're so sweet like this," he said. Tony rolled his hips into him._ _

__"You literally _just_ said subby me is for only you to see."_ _

__"Shush. I'm reconsidering," Steve hummed, biting onto the back of his neck teasingly. "Then maybe next time we assemble, you'd actually help secure the damn perimeter like you're told instead of diving headfirst into the biggest doombunny." Tony groaned._ _

__"No. No talking about doombunnies. Fuck, how was I supposed to know they were real creatures? I thought Doom was indulging his tender side," he whined. "I took three showers. Three! Just to get the stink out. I had to melt down the damn suit!" Steve laughed._ _

__"Well, it serves you right for not following orders," he said lightly and teasingly as if he wasn't driving Tony insane with his dick. Then his voice dropped low, "Isn't this so much better?"_ _

__Tony moaned. "I don't know. If you talk like that during missions, I just might fall out of the sky." Steve chuckled but kept it dark and low. His lips traced at the back of Tony's neck, wringing moans out of his lover._ _

__"Probably should wait till you’re back on the ground, then," he said._ _

__"Less talking, more fucking," Tony huffed, but a whine was edging at the back of his voice._ _

__Steve tipped his head back to kiss him and complied readily, and when Tony was thoroughly fucked out and trembling and filled with Steve’s come, Steve helped him into the shower and kissed him up against the wall._ _

__"You're going to make us late," Tony thought to remind him, and Steve knew that, but he didn't quite care. Not when he had a handful of pliant genius in his arms. “Fury’s going to bust a vein,” he tried again, but Steve swallowed his words. He had Tony’s legs wrapped around his waist, and his cock up against his own. Fury can go fuck himself. “You’re ridiculous,” Tony laughed when Steve finally let his lips alone and the soldier realized he had spoken that last bit aloud._ _

__“Not ridiculous,” Steve protested. “In love.”_ _

__Tony burst out laughing. “And so fucking cheesy.” Steve grinned proudly._ _

__“For you? Always.” Tony chuckled once more and leaned in for a kiss._ _


End file.
